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Chapter 18 - THE SUMMIT JOURNEY TO THE POLE
Scott's Last Expedition - The Journals of Captain R.
F. Scott
Contents
and Preface Chapters:
Chapter 1 |
Chapter 2 |
Chapter 3 |
Chapter 4 |
Chapter 5 |
Chapter 6 |
Chapter 7 |
Chapter 8 |
Chapter 9 |
Chapter 10 |
Chapter 11 |
Chapter 12 |
Chapter 13 |
Chapter 14 |
Chapter 15 |
Chapter 16 |
Chapter 17 |
Chapter 18 |
Chapter 19 |
Chapter 20 |
Appendix
Summary
(2 pages) of the
Terra Nova Expedition |
The Men
of the Expedition
On the Flyleaf
Ages: Self 43, Wilson
39, Evans (P.O.) 37, Oates
32, Bowers 28. Average 36.
Friday, December 22
Camp 44, about 7100
feet. T. -1°. Bar. 22.3. This, the third stage of our journey,
is
opening with good promise. We made our depot this morning, then
said
an affecting farewell to the returning party, who have taken
things
very well, dear good fellows as they are. 23
Then we started with our heavy loads about 9.20, I in some
trepidation--quickly dissipated as we went off and up a slope at
a
smart pace. The second sledge came close behind us, showing that
we have weeded the weak spots and made the proper choice for the
returning party.
We came along very easily and lunched at 1, when the
sledge-meter
had to be repaired, and we didn't get off again till 3.20,
camping at
6.45. Thus with 7 hours' marching we covered 10 1/2 miles (geo.)
(12
stat.).
Obs.: Lat. 85° 13 1/2'; Long. 161° 55'; Var. 175° 46' E.
To-morrow we march longer hours, about 9 I hope. Every day the
loads
will lighten, and so we ought to make the requisite progress. I
think we have climbed about 250 feet to-day, but thought it more
on the march. We look down on huge pressure ridges to the south
and
S.E., and in fact all round except in the direction in which we
go,
S.W. We seem to be travelling more or less parallel to a ridge
which
extends from Mt. Darwin. Ahead of us to-night is a stiffish
incline
and it looks as though there might be pressure behind it. It is
very
difficult to judge how matters stand, however, in such a
confusion
of elevations and depressions. This course doesn't work wonders
in
change of latitude, but I think it is the right track to clear
the
pressures--at any rate I shall hold it for the present.
We passed one or two very broad (30 feet) bridged crevasses with
the usual gaping sides; they were running pretty well in N. and
S. direction. The weather has been beautifully fine all day as
it was
last night. (Night Temp. -9°.) This morning there was an hour or
so of
haze due to clouds from the N. Now it is perfectly clear, and we
get a
fine view of the mountain behind which Wilson has just been
sketching.
Saturday, December 23
Lunch. Bar. 22.01. Rise 370? Started
at 8,
steering S.W. Seemed to be rising, and went on well for about 3
hours,
then got amongst bad crevasses and hard waves. We pushed on to
S.W.,
but things went from bad to worse, and we had to haul out to the
north, then west. West looks clear for the present, but it is
not
a very satisfactory direction. We have done 8 1/2' (geo.), a
good
march. (T. -3°. Southerly wind, force 2.) The comfort is that we
are
rising. On one slope we got a good view of the land and the
pressure
ridges to the S.E. They seem to be disposed 'en echelon' and
gave me
the idea of shearing cracks. They seemed to lessen as we ascend.
It
is rather trying having to march so far to the west, but if we
keep
rising we must come to the end of the obstacles some time.
Saturday night
Camp 45. T. -3°. Bar. 21.61. ?Rise. Height
about
7750. Great vicissitudes of fortune in the afternoon march.
Started
west up a slope--about the fifth we have mounted in the last
two days. On top, another pressure appeared on the left, but
less
lofty and more snow-covered than that which had troubled us in
the
morning. There was temptation to try it, and I had been
gradually
turning in its direction. But I stuck to my principle and turned
west
up yet another slope. On top of this we got on the most
extraordinary
surface--narrow crevasses ran in all directions. They were quite
invisible, being covered with a thin crust of hardened neve
without a
sign of a crack in it. We all fell in one after another and
sometimes
two together. We have had many unexpected falls before, but
usually
through being unable to mark the run of the surface appearances
of cracks, or where such cracks are covered with soft snow. How
a
hardened crust can form over a crack is a real puzzle--it seems
to
argue extremely slow movement. Dead reckoning, 85° 22' 1'' S.,
159°
31' E.
In the broader crevasses this morning we noticed that it was the
lower edge of the bridge which was rotten, whereas in all in the
glacier the upper edge was open.
Near the narrow crevasses this afternoon we got about 10 minutes
on
snow which had a hard crust and loose crystals below. It was
like
breaking through a glass house at each step, but quite suddenly
at
5 P.M. everything changed. The hard surface gave place to
regular
sastrugi and our horizon levelled in every direction. I hung on
to the S.W. till 6 P.M., and then camped with a delightful
feeling
of security that we had at length reached the summit proper. I
am
feeling very cheerful about everything to-night. We marched 15
miles
(geo.) (over 17 stat.) to-day, mounting nearly 800 feet and all
in
about 8 1/2 hours. My determination to keep mounting
irrespective of
course is fully justified and I shall be indeed surprised if we
have
any further difficulties with crevasses or steep slopes. To me
for the
first time our goal seems really in sight. We can pull our loads
and
pull them much faster and farther than I expected in my most
hopeful
moments. I only pray for a fair share of good weather. There is
a cold
wind now as expected, but with good clothes and well fed as we
are, we
can stick a lot worse than we are getting. I trust this may
prove the
turning-point in our fortunes for which we have waited so
patiently.
Sunday, December 24
Lunch. Bar. 21.48. ?Rise 160 feet.
Christmas
Eve. 7 1/4 miles geo. due south, and a rise, I think, more than
shown
by barometer. This in five hours, on the surface which ought to
be a
sample of what we shall have in the future. With our present
clothes it
is a fairly heavy plod, but we get over the ground, which is a
great
thing. A high pressure ridge has appeared on the 'port bow.' It
seems
isolated, but I shall be glad to lose sight of such
disturbances. The
wind is continuous from the S.S.E., very searching. We are now
marching
in our wind blouses and with somewhat more protection on the
head.
Bar. 21.41. Camp 46. Rise for day ?about 250 ft. or 300 ft.
Hypsometer,
8000 ft.
The first two hours of the afternoon march went very well. Then
the
sledges hung a bit, and we plodded on and covered something over
14
miles (geo.) in the day. We lost sight of the big pressure
ridge,
but to-night another smaller one shows fine on the 'port bow,'
and the
surface is alternately very hard and fairly soft; dips and rises
all
round. It is evident we are skirting more disturbances, and I
sincerely
hope it will not mean altering course more to the west. 14 miles
in
4 hours is not so bad considering the circumstances. The
southerly
wind is continuous and not at all pleasant in camp, but on the
march
it keeps us cool. (T. -3°.) The only inconvenience is the extent
to
which our faces get iced up. The temperature hovers about zero.
We have not struck a crevasse all day, which is a good sign. The
sun continues to shine in a cloudless sky, the wind rises and
falls,
and about us is a scene of the wildest desolation, but we are a
very
cheerful party and to-morrow is Christmas Day, with something
extra
in the hoosh.
Monday, December 25. CHRISTMAS
Lunch. Bar. 21.14. Rise 240
feet. The wind was strong last night and this morning; a light
snowfall
in the night; a good deal of drift, subsiding when we started,
but
still about a foot high. I thought it might have spoilt the
surface,
but for the first hour and a half we went along in fine style.
Then
we started up a rise, and to our annoyance found ourselves
amongst
crevasses once more--very hard, smooth neve between high ridges
at
the edge of crevasses, and therefore very difficult to get
foothold
to pull the sledges. Got our ski sticks out, which improved
matters,
but we had to tack a good deal and several of us went half down.
After
half an hour of this I looked round and found the second sledge
halted
some way in rear--evidently someone had gone into a crevasse. We
saw
the rescue work going on, but had to wait half an hour for the
party
to come up, and got mighty cold. It appears that Lashly went
down
very suddenly, nearly dragging the crew with him. The sledge ran
on
and jammed the span so that the Alpine rope had to be got out
and
used to pull Lashly to the surface again. Lashly says the
crevasse
was 50 feet deep and 8 feet across, in form U, showing that the
word
'unfathomable' can rarely be applied. Lashly is 44 to-day and as
hard
as nails. His fall has not even disturbed his equanimity.
After topping the crevasse ridge we got on a better surface and
came
along fairly well, completing over 7 miles (geo.) just before 1
o'clock. We have risen nearly 250 feet this morning; the wind
was
strong and therefore trying, mainly because it held the sledge;
it is a little lighter now.
Night. Camp No. 47. Bar. 21.18. T. -7°. I am so replete that I
can
scarcely write. After sundry luxuries, such as chocolate and
raisins
at lunch, we started off well, but soon got amongst crevasses,
huge
snowfields roadways running almost in our direction, and across
hidden
cracks into which we frequently fell. Passing for two miles or
so along
between two roadways, we came on a huge pit with raised sides.
Is
this a submerged mountain peak or a swirl in the stream? Getting
clear of crevasses and on a slightly down grade, we came along
at a
swinging pace--splendid. I marched on till nearly 7.30, when we
had
covered 15 miles (geo.) (17 1/4 stat.). I knew that supper was
to
be a 'tightener,' and indeed it has been--so much that I must
leave
description till the morning.
Dead reckoning, Lat. 85° 50' S.; Long. 159° 8' 2'' E. Bar.
21.22.
Towards the end of the march we seemed to get into better
condition;
about us the surface rises and falls on the long slopes of vast
mounds
or undulations--no very definite system in their disposition. We
camped half-way up a long slope.
In the middle of the afternoon we got another fine view of the
land. The Dominion Range ends abruptly as observed, then come
two
straits and two other masses of land. Similarly north of the
wild
mountains is another strait and another mass of land. The
various
straits are undoubtedly overflows, and the masses of land mark
the
inner fringe of the exposed coastal mountains, the general
direction of
which seems about S.S.E., from which it appears that one could
be much
closer to the Pole on the Barrier by continuing on it to the
S.S.E. We
ought to know more of this when Evans' observations are plotted.
I must write a word of our supper last night. We had four
courses. The
first, pemmican, full whack, with slices of horse meat flavoured
with
onion and curry powder and thickened with biscuit; then an
arrowroot,
cocoa and biscuit hoosh sweetened; then a plum-pudding; then
cocoa
with raisins, and finally a dessert of caramels and ginger.
After
the feast it was difficult to move. Wilson and I couldn't finish
our share of plum-pudding. We have all slept splendidly and feel
thoroughly warm--such is the effect of full feeding.
Tuesday, December 26
Lunch. Bar. 21.11. Four and
three-quarters
hours, 6 3/4 miles (geo.). Perhaps a little slow after
plum-pudding,
but I think we are getting on to the surface which is likely to
continue the rest of the way. There are still mild differences
of
elevation, but generally speaking the plain is flattening out;
no
doubt we are rising slowly.
Camp 48. Bar. 21.02. The first two hours of the afternoon march
went
well; then we got on a rough rise and the sledge came badly.
Camped
at 6.30, sledge coming easier again at the end.
It seems astonishing to be disappointed with a march of 15
(stat.) miles, when I had contemplated doing little more than 10
with
full loads.
We are on the 86th parallel. Obs.: 86° 2' S.; 160° 26' E. The
temperature has been pretty consistent of late, -10° to -12° at
night,
-3° in the day. The wind has seemed milder to-day--it blows
anywhere
from S.E. to south. I had thought to have done with pressures,
but to-night a crevassed slope appears on our right. We shall
pass
well clear of it, but there may be others. The undulating
character
of the plain causes a great variety of surface, owing, of
course,
to the varying angles at which the wind strikes the slopes. We
were
half an hour late starting this morning, which accounts for some
loss
of distance, though I should be content to keep up an average of
13'
(geo.).
Wednesday, December 27
Lunch. Bar. 21.02. The wind light
this
morning and the pulling heavy. Everyone sweated, especially the
second
team, which had great difficulty in keeping up. We have been
going up
and down, the up grades very tiring, especially when we get
amongst
sastrugi which jerk the sledge about, but we have done 7 1/4
miles
(geo.). A very bad accident this morning. Bowers broke the only
hypsometer thermometer. We have nothing to check our two
aneroids.
Night camp 49. Bar. 20.82. T. -6.3°. We marched off well after
lunch on a soft, snowy surface, then came to slippery hard
sastrugi
and kept a good pace; but I felt this meant something wrong, and
on
topping a short rise we were once more in the midst of crevasses
and
disturbances. For an hour it was dreadfully trying--had to pick
a road,
tumbled into crevasses, and got jerked about abominably. At the
summit
of the ridge we came into another 'pit' or 'whirl,' which seemed
the
centre of the trouble--is it a submerged mountain peak? During
the
last hour and a quarter we pulled out on to soft snow again and
moved
well. Camped at 6.45, having covered 13 1/3 miles (geo.).
Steering the
party is no light task. One cannot allow one's thoughts to
wander as
others do, and when, as this afternoon, one gets amongst
disturbances,
I find it is very worrying and tiring. I do trust we shall have
no more
of them. We have not lost sight of the sun since we came on the
summit;
we should get an extraordinary record of sunshine. It is
monotonous
work this; the sledgemeter and theodolite govern the situation.
Thursday, December 28
Lunch. Bar. 20.77. I start cooking
again
to-morrow morning. We have had a troublesome day but have
completed our
13 miles (geo.). My unit pulled away easy this morning and
stretched
out for two hours--the second unit made heavy weather. I changed
with Evans and found the second sledge heavy--could keep up, but
the
team was not swinging with me as my own team swings. Then I
changed
P.O. Evans for Lashly. We seemed to get on better, but at the
moment
the surface changed and we came up over a rise with hard
sastrugi. At
the top we camped for lunch. What was the difficulty? One theory
was
that some members of the second party were stale. Another that
all was
due to the bad stepping and want of swing; another that the
sledge
pulled heavy. In the afternoon we exchanged sledges, and at
first
went off well, but getting into soft snow, we found a terrible
drag,
the second party coming quite easily with our sledge. So the
sledge
is the cause of the trouble, and talking it out, I found that
all is
due to want of care. The runners ran excellently, but the
structure
has been distorted by bad strapping, bad loading, this afternoon
and
only managed to get 12 miles (geo.). The very hard pulling has
occurred
on two rises. It appears that the loose snow is blown over the
rises
and rests in heaps on the north-facing slopes. It is these heaps
that cause our worst troubles. The weather looks a little
doubtful,
a good deal of cirrus cloud in motion over us, radiating E. and
W. The
wind shifts from S.E. to S.S.W., rising and falling at
intervals; it
is annoying to the march as it retards the sledges, but it must
help
the surface, I think, and so hope for better things to-morrow.
The
marches are terribly monotonous. One's thoughts wander
occasionally to
pleasanter scenes and places, but the necessity to keep the
course,
or some hitch in the surface, quickly brings them back. There
have
been some hours of very steady plodding to-day; these are the
best
part of the business, they mean forgetfulness and advance.
Saturday, December 30
Bar. 20.42. Lunch. Night camp
52. Bar. 20.36. Rise about 150. A very trying, tiring march, and
only
11 miles (geo.) covered. Wind from the south to S.E., not quite
so
strong as usual; the usual clear sky.
We camped on a rise last night, and it was some time before we
reached the top this morning. This took it out of us as the
second
party dropped. I went on 6 l/2 miles (when the second party was
some
way astern) and lunched. We came on in the afternoon, the other
party
still dropping, camped at 6.30--they at 7.15. We came up another
rise
with the usual gritty snow towards the end of the march. For us
the
interval between the two rises, some 8 miles, was steady
plodding work
which we might keep up for some time. To-morrow I'm going to
march
half a day, make a depot and build the 10-feet sledges. The
second
party is certainly tiring; it remains to be seen how they will
manage
with the smaller sledge and lighter load. The surface is
certainly
much worse than it was 50 miles back. (T. -10°.) We have caught
up
Shackleton's dates. Everything would be cheerful if I could
persuade
myself that the second party were quite fit to go forward.
Sunday, December 31
New Year's Eve. 20.17. Height about
9126. T. -10°. Camp 53. Corrected Aneroid. The second party
depoted
its ski and some other weights equivalent to about 100 lbs. I
sent
them off first; they marched, but not very fast. We followed and
did not catch them before they camped by direction at 1.30. By
this
time we had covered exactly 7 miles (geo.), and we must have
risen a
good deal. We rose on a steep incline at the beginning of the
march,
and topped another at the end, showing a distance of about 5
miles
between the wretched slopes which give us the hardest pulling,
but
as a matter of fact, we have been rising all day.
We had a good full brew of tea and then set to work stripping
the
sledges. That didn't take long, but the process of building up
the
10-feet sledges now in operation in the other tent is a long
job. Evans
(P.O.) and Crean are tackling it, and it is a very remarkable
piece
of work. Certainly P.O. Evans is the most invaluable asset to
our
party. To build a sledge under these conditions is a fact for
special
record. Evans (Lieut.) has just found the latitude--86° 56' S.,
so
that we are pretty near the 87th parallel aimed at for to-night.
We
lose half a day, but I hope to make that up by going forward at
much
better speed.
This is to be called the '3 Degree Depot,' and it holds a week's
provisions for both units.
There is extraordinarily little mirage up here and the
refraction
is very small. Except for the seamen we are all sitting in a
double
tent--the first time we have put up the inner lining to the
tent;
it seems to make us much snugger.
10 P.M
The job of rebuilding is taking longer than I expected,
but is now almost done. The 10-feet sledges look very handy. We
had
an extra drink of tea and are now turned into our bags in the
double
tent (five of us) as warm as toast, and just enough light to
write
or work with. Did not get to bed till 2 A.M.
Obs.: 86° 55' 47'' S.; 165° 5' 48'' E.; Var. 175° 40'E. Morning
Bar. 20.08.
Monday, January 1, 1912
NEW YEAR'S DAY. Lunch. Bar. 20.04.
Roused
hands about 7.30 and got away 9.30, Evans' party going ahead on
foot. We followed on ski. Very stupidly we had not seen to our
ski
shoes beforehand, and it took a good half-hour to get them
right;
Wilson especially had trouble. When we did get away, to our
surprise
the sledge pulled very easily, and we made fine progress,
rapidly
gaining on the foot-haulers.
Night camp 54. Bar. 19.98. Risen about 150 feet. Height about
9600
above Barrier. They camped for lunch at 5 1/2 miles and went on
easily,
completing 11.3 (geo.) by 7.30. We were delayed again at lunch
camp,
Evans repairing the tent, and I the cooker. We caught the other
party more easily in the afternoon and kept alongside them the
last
quarter of an hour. It was surprising how easily the sledge
pulled;
we have scarcely exerted ourselves all day.
We have been rising again all day, but the slopes are less
accentuated. I had expected trouble with ski and hard patches,
but we
found none at all. (T. -14°.) The temperature is steadily
falling,
but it seems to fall with the wind. We are very comfortable in
our double tent. Stick of chocolate to celebrate the New Year.
The
supporting party not in very high spirits, they have not managed
matters well for themselves. Prospects seem to get
brighter--only
170 miles to go and plenty of food left.
Tuesday, January 2
T. -17°. Camp 55. Height about 9980. At
lunch my aneroid reading over scale 12,250, shifted hand to read
10,250. Proposed to enter heights in future with correction as
calculated at end of book (minus 340 feet). The foot party went
off
early, before 8, and marched till 1. Again from 2.35 to 6.30. We
started more than half an hour later on each march and caught
the
others easy. It's been a plod for the foot people and pretty
easy
going for us, and we have covered 13 miles (geo.).
T. -11°: Obs. 87° 20' 8'' S.; 160° 40' 53'' E.; Var. 180°. The
sky
is slightly overcast for the first time since we left the
glacier;
the sun can be seen already through the veil of stratus, and
blue sky
round the horizon. The sastrugi have all been from the S.E.
to-day,
and likewise the wind, which has been pretty light. I hope the
clouds
do not mean wind or bad surface. The latter became poor towards
the end of the afternoon. We have not risen much to-day, and the
plain seems to be flattening out. Irregularities are best seen
by
sastrugi. A skua gull visited us on the march this afternoon--it
was
evidently curious, kept alighting on the snow ahead, and
fluttering
a few yards as we approached. It seemed to have had little
food--an
extraordinary visitor considering our distance from the sea.
Wednesday, January 3
Height: Lunch, 10,110; Night, 10,180.
Camp
56. T.-17°. Minimum -18.5°. Within 150 miles of our goal. Last
night I
decided to reorganise, and this morning told off Teddy Evans,
Lashly,
and Crean to return. They are disappointed, but take it well.
Bowers is
to come into our tent, and we proceed as a five man unit
to-morrow. We
have 5 1/2 units of food--practically over a month's allowance
for five
people--it ought to see us through. We came along well on ski
to-day,
but the foot-haulers were slow, and so we only got a trifle over
12
miles (geo.). Very anxious to see how we shall manage to-morrow;
if we
can march well with the full load we shall be practically safe,
I take
it. The surface was very bad in patches to-day and the wind
strong.
'Lat. 87° 32'. A last note from a hopeful position. I think it's
going
to be all right. We have a fine party going forward and
arrangements
are all going well.'
Thursday, January 4
T. -17°, Lunch T. -16.5°. We were
naturally
late getting away this morning, the sledge having to be packed
and
arrangements completed for separation of parties. It is
wonderful
to see how neatly everything stows on a little sledge, thanks to
P.O. Evans. I was anxious to see how we could pull it, and glad
to
find we went easy enough. Bowers on foot pulls between, but
behind,
Wilson and myself; he has to keep his own pace and luckily does
not
throw us out at all.
The second party had followed us in case of accident, but as
soon as
I was certain we could get along we stopped and said farewell.
Teddy
Evans is terribly disappointed but has taken it very well and
behaved
like a man. Poor old Crean wept and even Lashly was affected. I
was
glad to find their sledge is a mere nothing to them, and thus,
no
doubt, they will make a quick journey back. 24 Since leaving
them
we have marched on till 1.15 and covered 6.2 miles (geo.). With
full
marching days we ought to have no difficulty in keeping up our
average.
Night camp 57. T. -16°. Height 10,280
We started well on the
afternoon march, going a good speed for 1 1/2 hours; then we
came
on a stratum covered with loose sandy snow, and the pulling
became
very heavy. We managed to get off 12 1/2 miles (geo.) by 7 P.M.,
but it was very heavy work.
In the afternoon the wind died away, and to-night it is flat
calm;
the sun so warm that in spite of the temperature we can stand
about
outside in the greatest comfort. It is amusing to stand thus and
remember the constant horrors of our situation as they were
painted
for us: the sun is melting the snow on the ski, &c. The plateau
is now very flat, but we are still ascending slowly. The
sastrugi
are getting more confused, predominant from the S.E. I wonder
what
is in store for us. At present everything seems to be going with
extraordinary smoothness, and one can scarcely believe that
obstacles
will not present themselves to make our task more difficult.
Perhaps
the surface will be the element to trouble us.
Friday, January 5
Camp 58. Height: morning, 10,430; night,
10,320. T. -14.8°. Obs. 87° 57', 159° 13'. Minimum T. -23.5; T.
-21°. A
dreadfully trying day. Light wind from the N.N.W. bringing
detached
cloud and constant fall of ice crystals. The surface, in
consequence,
as bad as could be after the first hour. We started at 8.15,
marched
solidly till 1.15, covering 7.4 miles (geo.), and again in the
afternoon we plugged on; by 7 P.M. we had done 12 l/2 miles
(geo.),
the hardest we have yet done on the plateau. The sastrugi seemed
to
increase as we advanced and they have changed direction from
S.W. to
S. by W. In the afternoon a good deal of confusing cross
sastrugi,
and to-night a very rough surface with evidences of hard
southerly
wind. Luckily the sledge shows no signs of capisizing yet. We
sigh
for a breeze to sweep the hard snow, but to-night the outlook is
not promising better things. However, we are very close to the
88th
parallel, little more than 120 miles from the Pole, only a march
from
Shackleton's final camp, and in a general way 'getting on.'
We go little over a mile and a quarter an hour now--it is a big
strain
as the shadows creep slowly round from our right through ahead
to our
left. What lots of things we think of on these monotonous
marches! What
castles one builds now hopefully that the Pole is ours. Bowers
took
sights to-day and will take them every third day. We feel the
cold
very little, the great comfort of our situation is the excellent
drying effect of the sun. Our socks and finnesko are almost dry
each
morning. Cooking for five takes a seriously longer time than
cooking
for four; perhaps half an hour on the whole day. It is an item I
had
not considered when re-organising.
Saturday, January 6
Height 10,470. T. -22.3°. Obstacles
arising--last night we got amongst sastrugi--they increased in
height
this morning and now we are in the midst of a sea of fish-hook
waves
well remembered from our Northern experience. We took off our
ski
after the first 1 1/2 hours and pulled on foot. It is terribly
heavy
in places, and, to add to our trouble, every sastrugus is
covered with
a beard of sharp branching crystals. We have covered 6 1/2
miles, but
we cannot keep up our average if this sort of surface continues.
There
is no wind.
Camp 59. Lat. 88° 7'. Height 10,430-10,510. Rise of
barometer? T.-22.5°. Minimum -25.8°. Morning. Fearfully hard
pull
again, and when we had marched about an hour we discovered that
a
sleeping-bag had fallen off the sledge. We had to go back and
carry
it on. It cost us over an hour and disorganised our party. We
have
only covered 10 1/2 miles (geo.) and it's been about the hardest
pull
we've had. We think of leaving our ski here, mainly because of
risk
of breakage. Over the sastrugi it is all up and down hill, and
the
covering of ice crystals prevents the sledge from gliding even
on the
down-grade. The sastrugi, I fear, have come to stay, and we must
be
prepared for heavy marching, but in two days I hope to lighten
loads
with a depot. We are south of Shackleton's last camp, so, I
suppose,
have made the most southerly camp.
Sunday, January 7
Height 10,560. Lunch. Temp. -21.3°. The
vicissitudes of this work are bewildering. Last night we decided
to
leave our ski on account of the sastrugi. This morning we
marched
out a mile in 40 min. and the sastrugi gradually disappeared. I
kept debating the ski question and at this point stopped, and
after
discussion we went back and fetched the ski; it cost us 1 1/2
hours
nearly. Marching again, I found to my horror we could scarcely
move
the sledge on ski; the first hour was awful owing to the
wretched
coating of loose sandy snow. However, we persisted, and towards
the
latter end of our tiring march we began to make better progress,
but
the work is still awfully heavy. I must stick to the ski after
this.
Afternoon. Camp 60°. T. -23°. Height 10,570. Obs.: Lat. 88° 18'
40''
S.; Long. 157° 21' E.; Var. 179° 15' W. Very heavy pulling
still,
but did 5 miles (geo.) in over four hours.
This is the shortest march we have made on the summit, but there
is excuse. Still, there is no doubt if things remained as they
are
we could not keep up the strain of such marching for long.
Things,
however, luckily will not remain as they are. To-morrow we depot
a
week's provision, lightening altogether about 100 lbs. This
afternoon
the welcome southerly wind returned and is now blowing force 2
to
3. I cannot but think it will improve the surface.
The sastrugi are very much diminished, and those from the south
seem
to be overpowering those from the S.E. Cloud travelled rapidly
over
from the south this afternoon, and the surface was covered with
sandy
crystals; these were not so bad as the 'bearded' sastrugi, and
oddly
enough the wind and drift only gradually obliterate these
striking
formations. We have scarcely risen at all to-day, and the plain
looks
very flat. It doesn't look as though there were more rises
ahead, and
one could not wish for a better surface if only the crystal
deposit
would disappear or harden up. I am awfully glad we have hung on
to the
ski; hard as the marching is, it is far less tiring on ski.
Bowers has
a heavy time on foot, but nothing seems to tire him. Evans has a
nasty
cut on his hand (sledge-making). I hope it won't give trouble.
Our
food continues to amply satisfy. What luck to have hit on such
an
excellent ration. We really are an excellently found party.
Monday, January 8
Camp 60. Noon. T. -19.8°. Min. for night
-25°. Our first summit blizzard. We might just have started
after
breakfast, but the wind seemed obviously on the increase, and so
has
proved. The sun has not been obscured, but snow is evidently
falling
as well as drifting. The sun seems to be getting a little
brighter
as the wind increases. The whole phenomenon is very like a
Barrier
blizzard, only there is much less snow, as one would expect, and
at
present less wind, which is somewhat of a surprise.
Evans' hand was dressed this morning, and the rest ought to be
good for it. I am not sure it will not do us all good as we lie
so
very comfortably, warmly clothed in our comfortable bags, within
our
double-walled tent. However, we do not want more than a day's
delay at
most, both on account of lost time and food and the snow
accumulation
of ice. (Night T. -13.5°.) It has grown much thicker during the
day,
from time to time obscuring the sun for the first time. The
temperature
is low for a blizzard, but we are very comfortable in our double
tent
and the cold snow is not sticky and not easily carried into the
tent,
so that the sleeping-bags remain in good condition. (T. -3°.)
The
glass is rising slightly. I hope we shall be able to start in
the
morning, but fear that a disturbance of this sort may last
longer
than our local storm.
It is quite impossible to speak too highly of my companions.
Each
fulfils his office to the party; Wilson, first as doctor, ever
on the
lookout to alleviate the small pains and troubles incidental to
the
work, now as cook, quick, careful and dexterous, ever thinking
of some
fresh expedient to help the camp life; tough as steel on the
traces,
never wavering from start to finish.
Evans, a giant worker with a really remarkable headpiece. It is
only now I realise how much has been due to him. Our ski shoes
and
crampons have been absolutely indispensable, and if the original
ideas were not his, the details of manufacture and design and
the
good workmanship are his alone. He is responsible for every
sledge,
every sledge fitting, tents, sleeping-bags, harness, and when
one
cannot recall a single expression of dissatisfaction with any
one of
these items, it shows what an invaluable assistant he has been.
Now,
besides superintending the putting up of the tent, he thinks out
and
arranges the packing of the sledge; it is extraordinary how
neatly
and handily everything is stowed, and how much study has been
given to
preserving the suppleness and good running qualities of the
machine. On
the Barrier, before the ponies were killed, he was ever roaming
round,
correcting faults of stowage.
Little Bowers remains a marvel--he is thoroughly enjoying
himself. I
leave all the provision arrangement in his hands, and at all
times
he knows exactly how we stand, or how each returning party
should
fare. It has been a complicated business to redistribute stores
at
various stages of re-organisation, but not one single mistake
has
been made. In addition to the stores, he keeps the most thorough
and conscientious meteorological record, and to this he now adds
the duty of observer and photographer. Nothing comes amiss to
him,
and no work is too hard. It is a difficulty to get him into the
tent;
he seems quite oblivious of the cold, and he lies coiled in his
bag
writing and working out sights long after the others are asleep.
Of these three it is a matter for thought and congratulation
that
each is sufficiently suited for his own work, but would not be
capable of doing that of the others as well as it is done. Each
is
invaluable. Oates had his invaluable period with the ponies; now
he is
a foot slogger and goes hard the whole time, does his share of
camp
work, and stands the hardship as well as any of us. I would not
like
to be without him either. So our five people are perhaps as
happily
selected as it is possible to imagine.
Tuesday, January 9
Camp 61. RECORD. Lat. 88° 25'. Height
10,270
ft. Bar. risen I think. T. -4°. Still blowing, and drifting when
we
got to breakfast, but signs of taking off. The wind had
gradually
shifted from south to E.S.E. After lunch we were able to break
camp
in a bad light, but on a good surface. We made a very steady
afternoon
march, covering 6 1/2, miles (geo.). This should place us in
Lat. 88°
25', beyond the record of Shackleton's walk. All is new ahead.
The
barometer has risen since the blizzard, and it looks as though
we
were on a level plateau, not to rise much further.
Obs.: Long. 159° 17' 45'' E.; Var. 179° 55' W.; Min. Temp.
-7.2°.
More curiously the temperature continued to rise after the blow
and now, at -4°, it seems quite warm. The sun has only shown
very
indistinctly all the afternoon, although brighter now. Clouds
are
still drifting over from the east. The marching is growing
terribly
monotonous, but one cannot grumble as long as the distance can
be
kept up. It can, I think, if we leave a depot, but a very
annoying
thing has happened. Bowers' watch has suddenly dropped 26
minutes;
it may have stopped from being frozen outside his pocket, or he
may
have inadvertently touched the hands. Any way it makes one more
chary
of leaving stores on this great plain, especially as the
blizzard
tended to drift up our tracks. We could only just see the back
track
when we started, but the light was extremely poor.
Wednesday, January 10
Camp 62. T. -11°. Last depot 88° 29'
S.; 159°
33' E.; Var. 180°. Terrible hard march in the morning; only
covered 5.1
miles (geo.). Decided to leave depot at lunch camp. Built cairn
and
left one week's food together with sundry articles of clothing.
We
are down as close as we can go in the latter. We go forward with
eighteen days' food. Yesterday I should have said certain to see
us
through, but now the surface is beyond words, and if it
continues we
shall have the greatest difficulty to keep our march long
enough. The
surface is quite covered with sandy snow, and when the sun
shines it
is terrible. During the early part of the afternoon it was
overcast,
and we started our lightened sledge with a good swing, but
during
the last two hours the sun cast shadows again, and the work was
distressingly hard. We have covered only 10.8 miles (geo.).
Only 85 miles (geo.) from the Pole, but it's going to be a stiff
pull both ways apparently; still we do make progress, which is
something. To-night the sky is overcast, the temperature (-11°)
much
higher than I anticipated; it is very difficult to imagine what
is
happening to the weather. The sastrugi grow more and more
confused,
running from S. to E. Very difficult steering in uncertain light
and with rapidly moving clouds. The clouds don't seem to come
from
anywhere, form and disperse without visible reason. The surface
seems
to be growing softer. The meteorological conditions seem to
point to an
area of variable light winds, and that plot will thicken as we
advance.
Thursday, January 11
Lunch. Height 10,540. T. -15° 8'. It
was
heavy pulling from the beginning to-day, but for the first two
and
a half hours we could keep the sledge moving; then the sun came
out
(it had been overcast and snowing with light south-easterly
breeze)
and the rest of the forenoon was agonising. I never had such
pulling;
all the time the sledge rasps and creaks. We have covered 6
miles,
but at fearful cost to ourselves.
Night camp 63. Height 10,530. Temp. -16.3°. Minimum -25.8°.
Another
hard grind in the afternoon and five miles added. About 74 miles
from
the Pole--can we keep this up for seven days? It takes it out of
us like anything. None of us ever had such hard work before.
Cloud
has been coming and going overhead all day, drifting from the
S.E.,
but continually altering shape. Snow crystals falling all the
time;
a very light S. breeze at start soon dying away. The sun so
bright
and warm to-night that it is almost impossible to imagine a
minus
temperature. The snow seems to get softer as we advance; the
sastrugi,
though sometimes high and undercut, are not hard--no crusts,
except
yesterday the surface subsided once, as on the Barrier. It seems
pretty certain there is no steady wind here. Our chance still
holds
good if we can put the work in, but it's a terribly trying time.
Friday, January 12
Camp 64. T. -17.5°. Lat. 88° 57'. Another
heavy
march with snow getting softer all the time. Sun very bright,
calm at
start; first two hours terribly slow. Lunch, 4 3/4 hours, 5.6
miles
geo.; Sight Lat. 88° 52'. Afternoon, 4 hours, 5.1 miles--total
10.7.
In the afternoon we seemed to be going better; clouds spread
over
from the west with light chill wind and for a few brief minutes
we
tasted the delight of having the sledge following free. Alas! in
a few
minutes it was worse than ever, in spite of the sun's eclipse.
However,
the short experience was salutary. I had got to fear that we
were
weakening badly in our pulling; those few minutes showed me that
we only want a good surface to get along as merrily as of old.
With
the surface as it is, one gets horribly sick of the monotony and
can
easily imagine oneself getting played out, were it not that at
the
lunch and night camps one so quickly forgets all one's troubles
and
bucks up for a fresh effort. It is an effort to keep up the
double
figures, but if we can do so for another four marches we ought
to
get through. It is going to be a close thing.
At camping to-night everyone was chilled and we guessed a cold
snap,
but to our surprise the actual temperature was higher than last
night, when we could dawdle in the sun. It is most unaccountable
why we should suddenly feel the cold in this manner; partly the
exhaustion of the march, but partly some damp quality in the
air, I
think. Little Bowers is wonderful; in spite of my protest he
would
take sights after we had camped to-night, after marching in the
soft
snow all day where we have been comparatively restful on ski.
Night position
Lat. 88° 57' 25'' S.; Long. 160° 21' E.; Var.
179°
49' W. Minimum T. -23.5°.
Only 63 miles (geo.) from the Pole to-night. We ought to do the
trick, but oh! for a better surface. It is quite evident this is
a
comparatively windless area. The sastrugi are few and far
between,
and all soft. I should imagine occasional blizzards sweep up
from
the S.E., but none with violence. We have deep tracks in the
snow,
which is soft as deep as you like to dig down.
Saturday, January 13
Lunch Height 10,390. Barometer low?
lunch
Lat. 89° 3' 18''. Started on some soft snow, very heavy dragging
and
went slow. We could have supposed nothing but that such
conditions
would last from now onward, but to our surprise, after two hours
we came on a sea of sastrugi, all lying from S. to E.,
predominant
E.S.E. Have had a cold little wind from S.E. and S.S.E., where
the sky
is overcast. Have done 5.6 miles and are now over the 89th
parallel.
Night camp 65
Height 10,270. T. -22.5°, Minimum -23.5°. Lat.
89°
9'S. very nearly. We started very well in the afternoon. Thought
we
were going to make a real good march, but after the first two
hours
surface crystals became as sandy as ever. Still we did 5.6 miles
geo.,
giving over 11 for the day. Well, another day with double
figures
and a bit over. The chance holds.
It looks as though we were descending slightly; sastrugi remain
as in
forenoon. It is wearisome work this tugging and straining to
advance a
light sledge. Still, we get along. I did manage to get my
thoughts off
the work for a time to-day, which is very restful. We should be
in a
poor way without our ski, though Bowers manages to struggle
through
the soft snow without tiring his short legs.
Only 51 miles from the Pole to-night. If we don't get to it we
shall be d----d close. There is a little southerly breeze
to-night;
I devoutly hope it may increase in force. The alternation of
soft
snow and sastrugi seem to suggest that the coastal mountains are
not
so very far away.
Sunday, January 14
Camp 66. Lunch T. -18°, Night T. -15°.
Sun
showing mistily through overcast sky all day. Bright southerly
wind
with very low drift. In consequence the surface was a little
better,
and we came along very steadily 6.3 miles in the morning and 5.5
in
the afternoon, but the steering was awfully difficult and
trying;
very often I could see nothing, and Bowers on my shoulders
directed
me. Under such circumstances it is an immense help to be pulling
on ski. To-night it is looking very thick. The sun can barely be
distinguished, the temperature has risen, and there are serious
indications of a blizzard. I trust they will not come to
anything;
there are practically no signs of heavy wind here, so that even
if
it blows a little we may be able to march. Meanwhile we are less
than
40 miles from the Pole.
Again we noticed the cold; at lunch to-day (Obs.: Lat. 89° 20'
53''
S.) all our feet were cold, but this was mainly due to the bald
state
of our finnesko. I put some grease under the bare skin and found
it made all the difference. Oates seems to be feeling the cold
and
fatigue more than the rest of us, but we are all very fit. It is
a
critical time, but we ought to pull through. The barometer has
fallen
very considerably and we cannot tell whether due to ascent of
plateau
or change of weather. Oh! for a few fine days! So close it seems
and
only the weather to baulk us.
Monday, January 15
Lunch camp, Height 9,950. Last depot.
During
the night the air cleared entirely and the sun shone in a
perfectly
clear sky. The light wind had dropped and the temperature fallen
to
-25°, minimum -27°. I guessed this meant a hard pull, and
guessed
right. The surface was terrible, but for 4 3/4 hours yielded 6
miles
(geo.). We were all pretty well done at camping, and here we
leave our
last depot--only four days' food and a sundry or two. The load
is now
very light, but I fear that the friction will not be greatly
reduced.
Night, January 15
Height 9920. T. -25°. The sledge came
surprisingly lightly after lunch--something from loss of weight,
something, I think, from stowage, and, most of all perhaps, as a
result of tea. Anyhow we made a capital afternoon march of 6.3
miles,
bringing the total for the day to over 12 (12.3). The sastrugi
again
very confused, but mostly S.E. quadrant; the heaviest now almost
east,
so that the sledge continually bumps over ridges. The wind is
from
the W.N.W. chiefly, but the weather remains fine and there are
no
sastrugi from that direction.
Camp 67. Lunch obs.: Lat. 89° 26' 57''; Lat. dead reckoning, 89°
33'
15'' S.; Long. 160° 56' 45'' E.; Var. 179° E.
It is wonderful to think that two long marches would land us at
the
Pole. We left our depot to-day with nine days' provisions, so
that it
ought to be a certain thing now, and the only appalling
possibility
the sight of the Norwegian flag forestalling ours. Little Bowers
continues his indefatigable efforts to get good sights, and it
is
wonderful how he works them up in his sleeping-bag in our
congested
tent. (Minimum for night -27.5°.) Only 27 miles from the Pole.
We
ought to do it now.
Tuesday, January 16
Camp 68. Height 9760. T. -23.5°. The
worst
has happened, or nearly the worst. We marched well in the
morning and
covered 7 1/2 miles. Noon sight showed us in Lat. 89° 42' S.,
and we
started off in high spirits in the afternoon, feeling that
to-morrow
would see us at our destination. About the second hour of the
March
Bowers' sharp eyes detected what he thought was a cairn; he was
uneasy
about it, but argued that it must be a sastrugus. Half an hour
later
he detected a black speck ahead. Soon we knew that this could
not be
a natural snow feature. We marched on, found that it was a black
flag
tied to a sledge bearer; near by the remains of a camp; sledge
tracks
and ski tracks going and coming and the clear trace of dogs'
paws--many
dogs. This told us the whole story. The Norwegians have
forestalled
us and are first at the Pole. It is a terrible disappointment,
and I am very sorry for my loyal companions. Many thoughts come
and
much discussion have we had. To-morrow we must march on to the
Pole
and then hasten home with all the speed we can compass. All the
day
dreams must go; it will be a wearisome return. We are descending
in
altitude--certainly also the Norwegians found an easy way up.
Wednesday, January 17
Camp 69. T. -22° at start. Night -21°.
The
Pole. Yes, but under very different circumstances from those
expected. We have had a horrible day--add to our disappointment
a
head wind 4 to 5, with a temperature -22°, and companions
labouring
on with cold feet and hands.
We started at 7.30, none of us having slept much after the shock
of our
discovery. We followed the Norwegian sledge tracks for some way;
as far
as we make out there are only two men. In about three miles we
passed
two small cairns. Then the weather overcast, and the tracks
being
increasingly drifted up and obviously going too far to the west,
we
decided to make straight for the Pole according to our
calculations. At
12.30 Evans had such cold hands we camped for lunch--an
excellent
'week-end one.' We had marched 7.4 miles. Lat. sight gave 89°
53'
37''. We started out and did 6 1/2 miles due south. To-night
little
Bowers is laying himself out to get sights in terrible difficult
circumstances; the wind is blowing hard, T. -21°, and there is
that
curious damp, cold feeling in the air which chills one to the
bone in
no time. We have been descending again, I think, but there looks
to be
a rise ahead; otherwise there is very little that is different
from
the awful monotony of past days. Great God! this is an awful
place
and terrible enough for us to have laboured to it without the
reward
of priority. Well, it is something to have got here, and the
wind
may be our friend to-morrow. We have had a fat Polar hoosh in
spite
of our chagrin, and feel comfortable inside--added a small stick
of
chocolate and the queer taste of a cigarette brought by Wilson.
Now
for the run home and a desperate struggle. I wonder if we can do
it.
Thursday morning, January 18
Decided after summing up all
observations that we were 3.5 miles away from the Pole--one mile
beyond it and 3 to the right. More or less in this direction
Bowers
saw a cairn or tent.
We have just arrived at this tent, 2 miles from our camp,
therefore
about 1 1/2 miles from the Pole. In the tent we find a record of
five
Norwegians having been here, as follows:
Roald Amundsen
Olav Olavson Bjaaland
Hilmer Hanssen
Sverre H. Hassel
Oscar Wisting.
16 Dec. 1911.
The tent is fine--a small compact affair supported by a single
bamboo. A note from Amundsen, which I keep, asks me to forward a
letter to King Haakon!
The following articles have been left in the tent: 3 half bags
of
reindeer containing a miscellaneous assortment of mits and
sleeping
socks, very various in description, a sextant, a Norwegian
artificial
horizon and a hypsometer without boiling-point thermometers, a
sextant
and hypsometer of English make.
Left a note to say I had visited the tent with companions.
Bowers
photographing and Wilson sketching. Since lunch we have marched
6.2 miles S.S.E. by compass (i.e. northwards). Sights at lunch
gave us 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile from the Pole, so we call it the
Pole
Camp. (Temp. Lunch -21°.) We built a cairn, put up our poor
slighted
Union Jack, and photographed ourselves--mighty cold work all of
it--less than 1/2 a mile south we saw stuck up an old
underrunner
of a sledge. This we commandeered as a yard for a floorcloth
sail. I
imagine it was intended to mark the exact spot of the Pole as
near as
the Norwegians could fix it. (Height 9500.) A note attached
talked of
the tent as being 2 miles from the Pole. Wilson keeps the note.
There
is no doubt that our predecessors have made thoroughly sure of
their
mark and fully carried out their programme. I think the Pole is
about
9500 feet in height; this is remarkable, considering that in
Lat. 88°
we were about 10,500. We carried the Union Jack about 3/4 of a
mile
north with us and left it on a piece of stick as near as we
could fix
it. I fancy the Norwegians arrived at the Pole on the 15th Dec.
and
left on the 17th, ahead of a date quoted by me in London as
ideal,
viz. Dec. 22. It looks as though the Norwegian party expected
colder
weather on the summit than they got; it could scarcely be
otherwise
from Shackleton's account. Well, we have turned our back now on
the
goal of our ambition and must face our 800 miles of solid
dragging--and
good-bye to most of the daydreams!
CHAPTER
XIX - THE RETURN FROM THE POLE